


In Six Weeks You Will Be Mine

by Diaphenia



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cotton Candy, Early Work, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: Leslie throws a festival and gets a crush





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic ever. LJ, blah blah blah, originally posted [here](http://leslie-ben.livejournal.com/150391.html)
> 
> Original author's note: I wrote two pieces for the kinkmeme and I really loved the universe I had created, so I decided to incorporate them into a longer piece with a few minor changes. I owe everything to rikyl who held my hand through this entire thing, encouraged me along, and is generally amazing.

Leslie is not entirely over her flu, but three days off of work is enough.

She sails into the office that Friday, pleased to be back. Everyone seems thrilled she has returned, even if Tom keeps spraying everything with Lysol. She is delighted that she gets to come back to Harvest Fest. She pulls out a thick binder, labeled “Harvest Fest Ideas” and got to work rereading it. 

Twenty minutes later she pushes the binder to the side. She hates all her ideas, and needs something new and better. She decides to go for a walk through the building. She has to return Ben’s Tupperware to him, so she heads to the third floor.

When she gets to the office, Chris isn’t there, but Ben is, pouring over some sort of report. The door is open, but she knocks anyway, not wanting to startle him. He finishes his sentence, apparently deep in thought, and he looks up.

“Leslie!” he says, lighting up a bit. He must be bored, if he is excited to see her.

“Hey, Ben, I just wanted to return your container. The soup was good—“ it was, though she did love the waffles more— “and it was very nice of you to take me to the hospital and help me with my meeting.”

He jogs over to her, almost stumbling over a box of files next to him. “You did an amazing job, Leslie, even if you were feverishly tripping on flu meds.” He puts his hand out, and his face falls a bit when she hands him the container, so she realizes he was trying to shake. _Awkward_. She puts her hand on his shoulder, which necessitates taking a step closer, and somehow that’s not quite working, as his eyes have gotten huge, probably in fear. She needs to break the contact, so she goes to sit down on his work table. He stands in the doorway, clearly not sure where he should be right now.

“I need your opinion. I need something that will make Harvest Fest shine, but I can’t come up with what, or how, and I fear this will mean the entire thing’s in jeopardy. I have ideas—  but they are all terrible. Some of them are about goats, but they’re all terrible.”  

Ben crinkles his face a bit, speaks carefully, “I actually wanted to mention this to you—“ and he pulls out a listing for a festival that is a few hours away from Pawnee. They make plans to go the next day, and Leslie is excited. She hops off his desk, touches his shoulder again—and again, his eyes open wide in fear—and scurries out of the office.

*** 

Saturday morning Leslie is putting the finishing touches on her hair when her doorbell rings. She takes the stairs at double-time speed _(festivals are exciting!)_ and is surprised to see Ben looking so casual. She is used to button-down plaid shirts, but today he is wearing a t-shirt and jeans. His hair is almost bed head, apparently lacking gel, and she has the strangest urge to reach up and check with her fingers. Where did that come from? She shakes her head, grabs her purse and notepad and two water bottles and walks over to his Saturn.

The car ride is long, but she's surprised to find that she is not bored. This might be the longest she and Ben have ever spent together, and their conversation shifts from work to politics ( _they compare who they voted for in the last three major elections)_ to history _(Ben knows a surprising amount about the Roosevelts )_ to music _(here they disagree, and promise to swap CDs  soon)._ She is almost disappointed when they get to the festival, which is ridiculous.

***

The fest is themed, and that theme is “ribs.” It occurs to Leslie that they probably should have brought Ron, but she didn’t even think to invite any other coworkers. She promises to take extra good notes. The day is overcast, which is good, because the early fall sun is still hot. Ben pulls out a camera, and starts shooting pictures. She laughs at this, but agrees to pose in front of the strongman game. They wander around, sampling food, talking to venders. They ride a few rides, mug for some silly photographs together.

When they reach a booth that is selling candy, Leslie can feel her eyes growing wide. “Ben! Let’s each pick something for each other!” When they compare purchases, he has bought her a ring pop _(he gets down on one knee and slides it on to her left hand, and Leslie’s stomach does a strange little flip)._ Before he gets up, she shoves a candy necklace over his head, brushing his hair with her fingertips— no gel, not that she was still wondering.  He stands up, and grabs her hand _(she really needs to drink something to settle her stomach)_ and pulls her over to a bench. She sits; they break off their hand-holding. She holds her hand up to her mouth and contemplates how to eat this in a manner befitting an adult, and instead just starts slurping. Ben stares at her, shocked apparently, and she notices his eyes grow a little dark. She feels silly, slurping on this thing, so she pulls it from her mouth and motions to him to eat his necklace. It is one of those candy necklaces she remembers from childhood, with round circles of chalky candy strung on elastic.

He grabs the necklace, pulls it away from his neck and looks at it. Then he separates one candy from the rest, stretching the elastic, and sticks it in his mouth experimentally. He sucks on it for a moment, and Leslie feels a little woozy. Then he crunches down on it. He proceeds to methodically and carefully work through half the necklace in this way, which Leslie likes in a way she can’t quite describe, so she sucks on her ring. They are a noisy pair.

“I want to try your necklace!” she blurts out before she can think this through. Ben’s eyes go wide, again, but he holds out the necklace, lifting it off his chest but not over his head. She leans over, brushes her hand on his knee— _stop that, Leslie_ — and chomps down, not sure how many she is biting. She can smell his scent— maybe it is sandalwood? Tom would know. She doesn’t, but it smells nice, way too nice. Suddenly she realizes how close she is to his face, and she snaps back to her seat. Then she realizes how weird she is being, and thrusts her ring in his face so he can try it. She realizes this is even weirder, but she can’t pull back, so she waits to see how he will react. He looks at her, and then leans over to her hand, touching her hand ever so lightly, and he puts his lips around her candy ring. His bottom lip brushes the top of her finger, and his hand is brushing the bottom, and his hands are so big and he smells so nice and she really didn’t think this through.

She isn’t lusting after Ben, of course. He is— not just a coworker, but not quite a friend, either. She feels wary around him, as though any moment he is going to turn to her and slash her department to ribbons.   Except right now he is giving her a look that says- what does that say? She wishes she had his camera so she could record this for Ann, and ask her opinion.

She hops up, pulls at his hand but doesn’t grab it, and gestures towards the Ferris wheel. Then she takes off. _Breathe, Leslie, just breathe._

***

Monday morning, Leslie sits down to type her notes on RibFest when she notices an email.

_From: BenWyatt@INBudget.gov_

_To: Knope.Leslie@Pawnee.gov_

_Thanks for the eventful weekend! I am including pictures for your presentation I am sure you are already putting together. Click here to download them. Can’t wait to see what you present on this._

And when she scrolls through the photos, jotting down more information on vendors and prices and the layout, she notices a picture in there that she didn’t even realize he had taken.

Leslie, in front of the Tunnel of Love. She isn’t looking at the camera, but off to the left side _(possibly at the cotton candy machine?)_ the wind is dancing through her hair, and the sun is hitting her face just so. She looks lovely, better than she has in any photos she has.

And the next one is one she took of Ben, after yanking the camera away. He is standing in front of the cotton candy machine, looking straight at the camera _(and at her)_ with the strangest look on his face. He looks almost...

Leslie’s stomach flips, and she closes her browser. _Time to focus on the Harvest Fest._

***

Leslie presents some of the information she gathered at Ribfest to a committee of the Parks department, the state auditors, and a few key business leaders, as part of a larger presentation of ideas. She is careful to leave out any reference to how she ended up there or who she went with, and to avoid eye contact with Ben for the entire meeting.  She hasn’t been avoiding him this week, but it is Thursday and she hasn’t talked to him since the Ribfest. She isn’t sure why she feels so strange about what happened, but something _shifted_ , and she can’t put her finger on what.

She decides to confess all to Ann. Ann, beautiful nurse that she is, will be able to do something.

She shows up after work with take-out and wine. Ann looks tired _(and with the flu still cutting its way through town, why wouldn’t she be?)_ but sits down at the table with Leslie. Leslie starts pouring the wine, and her troubles pour out as well.

“I don’t see the issue.” Ann declares. “You went to do some research, you did some research, he snapped a photo of you, and now you are avoiding him? That’s a fairly unreasonable response to the whole thing.” 

Leslie whips out her Blackberry and starts punching in keys. She pulls up the email, and flips between the two pictures. She goes slowly at first, but increases her pace as Ann studies them, her brow furrowed a bit.

“All right, I see the issue. It could just be the lighting? I could ask Chris about it.”

“How are things going with Chris?”

“He is great! Did you know he starts every day with 300 sit-ups? I’ve started doing them. I can’t do 300! But I can do 35, which is what I’ve been doing for about week. It’s an endorphin rush!”

“I am not going to lie to you, Ann, that sounds awful. I don’t know if mentioning it to Chris is a good idea. There might not be anything there, for one thing. And I am not sure that Chris isn’t still a little mad at me. I mean, I did ruin your date. And try to use him for money.”

“I won’t mention it if you don’t want me to, obviously, but I don’t think that’s an issue. Chris is very forgiving. He also has interesting taste in flower arrangements…”

 Leslie waves her hands a bit, already thinking about those photos again.

***

Leslie decides to confront the Ben issue head-on Friday morning. She isn’t sure how to go about it, though, because she wants to avoid Chris—so going to their shared office is out—and she can’t discuss anything with Tom watching in her office. She spends the morning on paperwork, but her concentration is shot and her focus scattered. She is staring at the courtyard while adding sugar to her coffee when she notices Ben sitting in the courtyard, eating a sandwich and reading paperwork. She grabs her own lunch and goes out to the courtyard.

“Ben!” She immediately winces, because she sounds way too perky. She tries again, lowering her voice a little. “Ben.”

Ben jerks his head up quickly. “Leslie!” He swallows, runs his hand through his hair. “Why don’t you sit? If you want. 

“Thanks. I just wanted to thank you for going with me to the Ribfest. I had fun!” Leslie realizes that, while she has been mulling over how to get Ben alone, she has not decided what to say. “We should— I mean, if you aren’t—I wonder if there are more festivals around here.”

Ben looks at his hand, drums his fingertips on the table. “I looked—I could look into that. Let me email you!”

“Yeah! I bet we could get the whole Parks department to go.”

There is a pause, and she almost thinks she sees Ben suck in a breath, but he drums his fingers quickly and nods.

Leslie chews her lip. Apparently she misread the situation? That has to be it. She shifts the conversation to a biography of Truman she just finished, and they finish their lunches amid the Cold War.

***

Everything seems clearer Monday morning. She let her head get weird over some snapshots, but of course Ben isn’t interested in her.

The weekly Harvest Fest  meeting goes smoothly. This week, rather than avoiding eye contact with Ben, she smiles at him warmly from across the room. He turns around, and, seeing that no one else is behind him, shakes his head a little, and then grins across the room at her.

Afterwards, Ben approaches her while she gathers up her yellow legal pads and file folders. He touches her shoulder lightly, and she jumps a bit, but is pleased to see him.

“I looked into some festivals that are coming up between now and Harvest Fest. I made a little spreadsheet—“ he looks sheepish, but grips a file folder and continues— “that sorts them by driving distance, estimates for attendance, and date.”

She opens her mouth to respond, when Chris comes up to them.

“Leslie Knope! If it isn’t my favorite person in Pawnee. I need some clarification on the tent rentals….”

Ben stands there, file folder in hand, seeming reluctant to hand her the folder while she is talking to Chris, but not sure he should stay either. She answers Chris’s questions, which seem to go on and on, while Ben shuffles papers around. Chris eventually decides he knows enough about tent rentals and bounds off, finger guns blazing.

“Sorry, Ben. It’s just so awkward to talk to Chris. I feel like he’s judging me.”

“Why do you say that? Chris is a lot of things— _a lot of things_ —but judgmental?”

“Maybe you don’t remember, but I assume Chris thinks I think I’m some sort of pimp, here.”

Ben blanches, visibly. “Right. Well. I’m sure it’s fine. If Chris is fine with Ann, he is fine with you. I gotta get upstairs. See you later." 

Leslie grimaces, because that did not go well at all. She realizes, belatedly, that she never got to see the spreadsheet.

***

That weekend, Leslie ends up at a Little League game with Ben. This is entirely unplanned.

Chris had a point. It _was_ very important that the Parks department support the local teams, especially given that Little League was one of the few sports still running despite the budget cuts. When he had passed around a sign-up sheet and encouraged everyone to attend two games, Leslie had written herself in for every one. She took over the sheet, prodding her coworkers to sign up. When she gets to the park that Saturday, she’s not terribly surprised to see that Ron and April are playing hooky. She is surprised to see Ben there, wearing a short-sleeve plaid button-up unbuttoned over a t-shirt. 

Leslie is determined to not let this be weird. “Hey, Ben, what are you doing here? You aren’t on duty.”

“Leslie.” He looks unsurprised, but not unpleased. “Chris mentioned that he was trying to get Parks people here this weekend, but he didn’t say who would be here. Is anyone else around? Do you want to sit?” She accepts the seat next to him on the bleachers. There isn’t a lot of room, so she has to squish in, and her bare leg touches his jeans and she can feel herself blushing a bit, though she isn’t sure why. She can’t decide where to put her hands. She wants to put them on her knees, but Ben has his hands on his knees, and if she sticks them on only one knee she will look like a crazy person, and his hands are so large…

The game starts, and she claps more than is strictly necessary.

Ben seems willing to ignore their last conversation, and that suits Leslie just fine. She would just as soon not bring up using state auditors for financial gain, and if they just never have to discuss that again it will be too soon. She is delighted that he is ignoring the subject and focusing on the game.

Every time the kids from either team score, Ben looks at her and grins, and offers her a high five. At first, they are just high fives, but they start adding little extras, like a routine. It is silly, and they are laughing so hard about this that she gets a little light-headed.

“Leslie, you look a little flushed. Want to get some water?” They go over to the concession stand, where he buys her bottled water, and then she sees that they have cotton candy, so she gets that too. They stand in the shade of the concession stand, their seats long gone, and she sucks down half the bottle of water without pausing. She gulps greedily, and it is only when she sees Ben staring that she realizes she should have shared in the first place. She offers him the rest of the bottle. He takes it, and he drinks it quickly. The muscles in his neck get a little twitchy, and there is that weird stomach flip from Ribfest. 

She shakes her head, focuses on the candy rather than Ben’s neck. The cotton candy is beautiful and fluffy, and like all foods, better when on a stick. She pauses to appreciate the majesty, and then Ben confesses he has never had cotton candy before.

“Ben! Cotton candy is the best candy. It tastes like cotton balls made of sugar"--he quirks his face at that, but she isn’t wrong--“and it is way better than chocolate“"--he really makes a face at this assertion, and she knows she is wrong here, but she continues on--“and you have to try it.” She thrusts it into his face, and when he goes to rip a piece off with his hands she snatches it away. “No, no, no. You can’t approach cotton candy like it is a truffle or something. This is an all-or-nothing proposition. You gotta dive into this full-face.” What the hell is she saying? When did words become so difficult, and so loaded? Ben looks like he has something caught in his throat. She can feel herself starting to blush, so she does the only thing she can think of, and takes a bite of the candy. No, not a _bite_ , a full-face candy mash where some ends up in her mouth and more ends up on her face. She has to come out from behind the candy some time, so she does, and she giggles nervously, because her campaign to convince Ben that she is a competent adult is not going very well. How she ever convinced him to give her the Harvest Fest is a mystery.

Ben looks at her, and wipes his hands on his jeans, and then places those hands on both sides of her face. _Whoa._ Then he gently wipes away some globs, and it almost seems like his thumbs are lingering a bit. Then he drops his hands away, wipes them on his jeans again, and grabs the cotton candy. Leslie’s hand is acting of its own accord, though, so rather than handing it off she keeps clutching it and finds her hand enveloped in his. Then he mashes his face into the candy, and when he pulls it away he licks some of the extra stuck around his mouth, and she feels a little flush again. She stands on her tip toes, but is a little unsteady, which necessitates leaning against him, a bit, and she starts rubbing off some of the excess candy. She looks him in the eyes, and he looks her in the eyes, and she can feel his heart beating- 

“Whoa, what’s going on here?”

“April! What are you doing here? I was just help my colleague Ben with--do you want some cotton candy? Ben, give her the cotton candy.”

“Gross. I signed up to see the game, and I guess it's running long because I didn’t miss it. I think I see Derek. Catch you guys later.” She smirks. “You _do_ know that they have wet naps at the concession stand?”

***

Monday morning, Leslie checks her email.

_From: BenWyatt@INBudget.gov_

_To: Knope.Leslie@Pawnee.gov_

_I had a great time at the baseball game. I have some ideas to promote Little League games among the Pawneeans, so maybe we can discuss them later. Maybe don’t mention it to April, though._

At the bottom of the email is a photo of them in the stands. Ben had stuck his arm out, so it is mostly just their faces. She is grinning at the camera, hair little messy and face a little flushed. And Ben… Ben is looking at her.

***

Tuesday morning, Leslie wakes up with a crush.

_Goddamnit._

***

She has lunch with Ann, who comes to visit her that Wednesday, and they spend most of the time discussing Chris’ workout routine, which is not nearly as fascinating as Ann seems to think it is, but Leslie is just thrilled to get some time with her. Leslie lets her mind wander a bit, and at some point she tunes back in and realizes she has agreed to something, and Ann is giving her a date and time to show up. 

“Leslie, I don’t know what’s wrong with you today. You barely picked at your food, and now you aren’t even listening to our plans?”

Leslie pushes her salad aside and grabs her bag of Oreos instead. “I was listening… just not the kind of listening that involves remembering. Sorry, Ann, I am listening now.”

“We’re going to go to CornDays on Sunday so you can take notes for Harvest Fest.”

“CornDays. Right.”

“We’re going to wear dressy casual clothes and we’re going to be at my house at ten in the morning when they pick us up.”.

“They?” Leslie feels her stomach drop.

Ann rolls her eyes playfully. “Chris and Ben. Look, I have to get back to the hospital, but come over at nine on Sunday.”

“Ann, wait! I don’t mean to be flaky, but did you say whose idea this was?”

Ann smirks at her a little. “Ben’s.”

***

Leslie shows up at eight to get ready for CornDays. Ann opens the door and points to an already-poured mug of coffee sitting on the counter next to a can of whipped cream. Leslie pulls out three shirts from her bag. Ann proclaims that none of them are good, and disappears into her bedroom, returning and tossing her something that would never go under a blazer.

The doorbell rings promptly at ten, and Leslie pulls Ann over to the door with her. And on the other side, Ben and Chris stand there, wearing sunglasses. There is a brief moment where no one can decide if the girls should go outside or the boys should come in. Ann comes to the rescue by telling them she and Leslie will be out in just one moment. She leans over and kisses Chris on the mouth, and Leslie involuntarily whips her eyes over to Ben. When their eyes connect, she whips them away and blushes slightly, then runs off in search of purses and last minute sunblock and water.

Ann locks up and Leslie walks over to the car, wondering who is sitting shotgun. The car is some sort of tiny European _thing_ and she holds back slightly, letting someone else make that decision.

And that is how she ends up in the backseat of Chris’ car, squashed up next to Ben, wondering what to do with her hands. She pushes her torso against the door awkwardly, and pulls out a legal pad. She asks Ben for some facts about this festival, and Ben launches it projected attendance rates and food booth estimates. Ann and Chris appear to be entirely ignoring this conversation, preferring to murmur to each other in lower tones.

The closer they get the more Leslie panics. She can’t decide if everyone is paying the entrance fee individually. Is Ben going to pay? Does he think he should pay? Does he think this is a double date? _Is_ it a double date?

Chris pays for all four of them, answering nothing.

Once in the doors, Chris hands them all giant tablets and water bottles, telling them that these pills will stop motion sickness because they simply must ride the rides before lunch. Ann and Leslie swallow them, but she notices that Ben spits his out the minute he thinks no one’s looking. He notices her noticing him, and he leans over to her and whispers, “I filter my water and I do stretches when I wake up. I even started eating kale, but I draw the line at mysterious pills”. This is not even slightly sexy, but his breathe tickles her ear and she wishes he would just lean over half an inch closer and pull her earlobe into his mouth…

But then he pulls away and jogs to keep up with Ann and Chris, who are walking quickly towards the rides. She trots to keep up.

How is she supposed to assess whether or not Ben likes her? This is kind of a dilemma. Leslie can’t remember the last time she had a _crush_. She has _relationships,_ sure, and _dates,_ yes, but yesterday she was practically doodling their names surrounded by hearts, and she may have thought up a few extra excuses to wander past the auditor’s office. And she may or may not have typed out about fifty unsent text messages, because what in the world says _“I like you like you, even if I called you names m_ _onths ago, and and it might be weird because we work together."_

The four of them buy wristbands to get on the rides, and walk around, looking at the layout. Ben dutifully snaps pictures of the layout, the crowd, the four of them. Ann suggests the Ferris wheel, and as they stand in line, Leslie tries to think up something interesting to say. She considers, and dismisses, topics ranging from raccoons _(too loaded; what if he thinks she wants money for raccoon maintenance?)_ to the health care debates _(what if he has opposing political view points?)_ to the UN _(there is nothing wrong with talking about the UN, but she wants to give him the mistaken impression she is fun)._ Chris and Ann are no help; they are in their own little _bubble_. She decides she can’t think up what to say, but she would like something from him rather than this useless staring off into space he is doing.

She notices the camera dangling from his fingers, and before she can think better of it she grabs it from him. He barely reacts before she throws her arm around his middle and pulls him into her and starts taking pictures. He gets rather stiff, but she can’t pull away immediately, so she steels herself and resolves to snap at least five pictures.

Ben tries to pull away from her. _Snap._

Ben looks at her, confused. _Snap._

Ben shrugs, looks at the camera. _Snap._

Leslie looks at Ben, mouth slightly open. _Snap_  

Leslie stands on her toes and pulls Ben by the neck closer to her face _. Snap._  

She holds on to him for a beat too long. She can feel his stare on her, and she tries to come up with something witty to say, but luckily the Ferris wheel operator interrupts and makes them get on.

A smarter woman would play it cool on the Ferris wheel, but Leslie occasionally lets her enthusiasm win that battle. So when Ben puts his hand on the railing in front of them, Leslie puts her hand on the railing, too, and starts sliding it, centimeter by centimeter, towards his. This requires endless concentration— _slide slide slide—_ and she’s startled when Ben actually speaks.

“The real problem is that I have looked into rides, and I think we are only going to be able to afford, at most, half the rides they have here. CornDays listed their operating budget for the past five—“

“Ben. Let’s just enjoy the Ferris Wheel.”

_Slide slide slide—_

And then Ben runs his hand through his hair, and looks at her, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t mean to think about nothing but work.”

Leslie, having lost her chance, takes a moment to look out at the festival. _This is going to be mine in six weeks._ She looks at Ben, allows herself a moment of bravado. _You will be too._

***

Leslie finds herself overwhelmed by the sheer number of food booths. Truly, this is the part of festivals she loves the best. After wandering past an impressive array of everything wonderful about carnival food _(fried, dipped, buttered, and on a stick)_ she settles on a deep-fried Snickers bar topped with whipped cream.

She joins everyone at a table. Ben has a chili dog, Ann has a salad, and Chris has actually found some sort of wheat-germ tofu beet thing. _Note to self: do not put Chris in charge of the food booths._

“Pawnee is going to have even better food than this.” Leslie digs in with her plastic fork and takes a blissful bite. “I can’t wait to see who is going to have a booth.”

“I know a marvelous lady who makes fantastic salads. I was talking to her at Grain n’ Simple and she mentioned she would like to have a booth. We should have some healthy options.”  Chris seems pleased with this terrible idea, and it occurs to Leslie that he might not want _her_ in charge of the food booths either.

Ann chimes in with “She has a restaurant, right? We should go.”

“She makes a dressing out of ground-up sea weed—“ and with that, Leslie decides to ignore Chris and focus on stealing peeks at Ben.

He is looking at Chris and Ann as though he is fascinated by lettuce, but he is still eating his chili dog without a trace of guilt. He eats meals the same way she does, as it turns out. A few bites of fries, then a bite or two of the dog, then a sip of pop. Lather, rinse, repeat. He eats his fries with ketchup, and they look amazing, crinkle-cut with the exact right amount of grease. He really seems to savor them, too, because whenever he gets an especially soft one he closes his eyes as though French fries with ketchup are the only thing he wants to be aware of. 

Leslie takes a drag of her milkshake.

He loves his chili dog too. It’s a messy project, so he swipes his mouth with the little useless napkins stacked next to his plate after every bite, almost as though it is a reflex. When he finishes the last bite, he ends up with chili on his fingers. Still keeping his eyes on Ann and Chris, he slyly sticks each finger in his mouth— first the left side, then the right, then on to the next finger, and each time he makes a faint sucking sound.

Leslie squeezes her shake so hard the lid pops off and spills.

They all start shoving napkins at her, and she mops up the table and focuses very hard on not turning red.

Everyone gathers their trash and the conversation turns towards green initiatives to implement at their festival, and as they walk out of the tent Leslie can almost believe she comes off as a rational adult person.

“Guys, we really should reapply sunblock.” Ann pulls a large bottle out of her purse and squirts some on to her hands. She starts rubbing her exposed skin. Chris takes the bottle and starts rubbing himself too, and then they start helping each other, hitting all the hard-to-reach bits. It’s almost too intimate to watch, and Leslie shies away, only to find herself looking at a slightly-pained Ben, who is also turning away from Ann and Chris. Leslie can’t decide where to throw her gaze, so she pulls out her phone and sends a text message to Donna about absolutely nothing, just to have something to do.

Chris, covered in lotion and holding hands with Ann, hands the bottle to Ben. “The lovely Ann Perkins and I are going to check out the craft tent. Can you two take notes on the BINGO booth?”

Ben holds the bottle up. He doesn’t hand it to her, exactly, but holds it halfway between them, so that she has to stretch her arms out a bit to grab it. She does, and when their fingers touch she feels a spark.

The lotion is cold, and her skin is hot, so she shivers a bit putting it on. Or maybe it’s the look Ben is giving her? She decides to take a chance. “Can you help me? With the sunscreen?”

She holds up her hair, and offers him her neck. She can’t help but fill the silence with nervous chatter, “I am so excited to be here, since I can’t even wait for the Harvest Festival.” He squirts, he leans over, and wow, his hand feels amazing. “And I am so glad you’re here, you know, since I know you’re excited too.” She leans towards him as he rubs just under the back neckline of her shirt. “And I think you will agree that this is a great use of funds and this can only be great for my department.” Then she turns towards him, reaches out to touch his shoulder-

And he abruptly stops, withdraws his hand, grabs the lotion and walks off with a quick “We should really get going-“

Leslie’s phone buzzes. Donna’s text reads _What is wrong with you?_ Leslie wishes she knew.

***

_All right, one more attempt._

As they walk into the Bingo booth, Leslie grabs Ben’s hand

“Leslie, what are you doing?” he hisses at her.

“You must take a seat. One dollar a card. Please sit.” The over-eager gray-haired BINGO hawker starts pushing cards at the two of them.

“We just need a minute— Ben, I thought you—"

“Please. Sit.”

“I should have realized you were just back to your old tricks. You got your Harvest Fest, what else do you want from me? Your budget is completely adequate for what you need, your department didn’t lose anyone after the crisis even after I cut almost every other department. I can’t do anything more for you. And I think it is a rotten thing to take advantage of that.”

“Sir, please take your personal problems out of the BINGO tent, or please play BINGO.”

They sit, grab cards.

 _N-45!_ “Are you accusing me of holding your hand to get money for the Parks department?”

 _N-42!_ “Are you saying you’re above that kind of thing? Because it was just a few weeks ago you tried to get Ann to do your dirty work!”

 _I-17!_ “I apologized about that!”

 _N-47!_ “In point of fact, you did not. _Ann_ did. You actually never did. And she apologized to _Chris_.”

 _G-51!_ “So you think I should apologize to Chris?”

 _O-71!_ “I think you should understand that _actions_ have _consequences_ so you’ll have to understand if I might be a little _suspicious_ of your motives.”

 _B-9!_ “I thought you were giving me signals! I was reacting to signals. You licked my ring!” Leslie whispers.

 _I-23!_ “I am not going to dignify that with a response— although I would like to point out that you offered that damn ring to me!” Ben whispers back angrily.

 _O-68!_ “It seemed like the thing to do! And I wanted to—wait, hold on, BINGO!”

Leslie is pretty excited to win a gift certificate for a free oil change. Ben is rolling his eyes, and whispering, “You realize we are arguing. 

Leslie can’t help but point out, “It’s not as though you are changing my oil, Ben.”

He counters with an eye-roll and a “Are you really going to come out here to get your oil changed?”

They leave the BINGO tent. Leslie clutches her prize excitedly.

Ben turns to her, still in sarcastic mode. “Are we going to continue this conversation, or are you just going to gloat over this victory?” And his unsaid ending to that sentence _Or your attempted victory over me?_

Leslie pockets her gift certificate and plants herself in his path. “Ben.” He stops walking but sets his mouth in a hard line. “Ben. Ben. Ben.”

“All right, Leslie, what?” He sighs and tilts his head at her.

“I am not trying to get anything from you. I just— I promise I am not trying to get anything from you.”

“The thing is, I don’t get what you are doing all _this_ for then.” He gestures helplessly, as if he can’t articulate exactly what he thinks she wants.

“ _This_ what?”

“The hand-grabbing and the lotion and the… You are acting crazy in a new and different kind of way." 

Leslie would love nothing more than to go yell into a pillow. She feels like she has been trying hard to get Ben’s attention. And yet here he is, thinking all she wants is another hospitality booth when what she wants is a date.

She has always been more practical than romantic, more playground than bedroom, but she wishes she could look him deep in the eyes and tell him she wants him, not government money, because he is Benji Wyatt, who has dreams and ambitions, and because when she closes her eyes at night she sees him until she drifts off. 

Voicing that will send him running back to Indianapolis or possibly Canada , because that just _isn’t done_ , so she instead decides to appeal to his logical side.

“You have to get that the budget for Harvest Fest is already set.”

“That’s mostly true.”

“At this point, there is nothing I could offer to you that would change how much money we get for the Fest.”

He nods, and squints at her. 

“And you are staying in town to help us with the festival, but you could get recalled at a moment’s notice and sent off and then you would have absolutely no say on any of this anyway." 

“That’s unlikely at this point.” He says, his voice wavering slightly, so she knows she is correct.

“So ask yourself, ‘what could she have to gain?’”

He frowns at her.

“I enjoy your company, Ben, and I haven’t called you a name in a while. I haven’t accused you of trying to fire my friends recently—“

“That may be because I am no longer working on the general Pawnee government budget-"

“I know. I still count it as an accomplishment, though.”

“Of course you do.”

“I think we should promise not to assume the worst in each other anymore.”

She watches his face, and sees his hesitation, his contemplation, and his decision. He gives her a tired smile, and sticks out his hand to shake with her. She bats it away, and he blinks, startled 

“No, no, no. Let’s do this like at the Little League game.”

So they seal the deal with a complicated handshake. They chuckle when it is over, and Ben shoves his hands in his jean pockets and smiles at her. Leslie hooks her thumbs in her belt-loops and smiles back. She looks over his shoulder to see a ribbon acrobat about to start a demonstration, so she grabs his arm lightly _(she maybe gives herself a minute to feel excited about touching his arm)_ and pulls him onward.

  
***

The next morning Leslie is feeling pretty good, really, about her chances with Ben. Though he does not seem to realize she wants a date, he seems to have decided she isn’t trying to seduce him in exchange for Park Department funds. She still vows to reinforce that fact as much as possible.

She bounds downstairs to make her list. There is the usual daily to-do list, and sixty-two— no, make that sixty-three, she has to talk to schedule police for the festival— and actually, sixty-four- she has to write up the Time Capsule project- items later, she makes a second list. She allows herself a brief indulgence- hearts around the title of the list, and then gets to work.

_Project Woo Ben_

  1. _Watch all three Star Wars movies_
  2. _Figure out his favorite type of chili_
  3. _Apologize to Chris re: Ann_
  4. _Ben+Ron=camping?_



And so on.

***

Leslie does not bake. She owns the supplies, but never creates her own deserts, because half the beauty of desert is that someone else made it.

Leslie decides to cover item number seventeen on her list, and bake for Ben. People like baked goods ( _Leslie likes baked goods)_ so Ben probably does too, right? She pulls out her mother’s old Betty Crocker cookbook, a red thing with the cover torn almost off and the pages fat with notes and articles and stains. She touches this book rarely, but when Marlene decided to toss it Leslie felt she had to save it, and her childhood. She leafs through, and finds a chocolate chip cookie recipe, and gets to work. She decides to go double batch, because the Parks department should get some too.

 

An hour and one giant spill of flour later, Leslie has piles of deserts. She wraps up two plates of cookies, adding a bow to one. She throws them in a bag, and, as an afterthought, throws an apple in there too.

She is the first one in to work, of course, so she leaves Ben a plate of cookies, Chris an apple, and sets up a plate in her own department. She is hard at work on the logistics of miniature horse transportation when an email pops up.

_From: BenWyatt@INBudget.gov_

_To: Knope.Leslie@Pawnee.gov_

_Thanks for the cookies. They are delicious, and it was very nice of you to bake them. Want to see the pictures from CornDays? Click here to download. I expect I will be seeing some of them at the meeting this afternoon._

She is scrolling through photos when the Parks Department starts wandering in. There are a lot of great photos of the fair, and she is already brainstorming her presentation on it when she notices the photos of the four of them. Ann and Chris happy on the carousel, Leslie looking longingly at the cotton candy machine, Ben and Ann a little sea-sick from The Twirler, Chris studying the rubber duck game…

Just when she gets to the photos she took of her and Ben, she hears her name and realizes she is being summoned. She tears herself away from the email and goes out to the main room.

April tosses her a glance while she files her nails. “Leslie, these cookies are gross! Can you tell the difference between sugar and salt?”

Leslie can feel a flush rising to her cheeks. She tries one of the cookies, and groans when she realizes her mistake. _Damnit!_

Ron is drinking coffee by the machine, and he gives Leslie a disbelieving once-over. “What’s the sudden interest in baking, Leslie?”

Jerry looks up from whatever he is doing and adds, “You have been working here, what, six, seven years, and I don’t think you have ever tried to bake before. Even for the bake sale you spearheaded back during the Camp Athena planning stages.”

“Shut up Jerry! Ron, can’t a woman just want to do nice things for her coworkers?” Leslie grimaces when she sees Ben has caught the whole thing from the doorway.

“Hey Leslie,” he says, glancing around the room nervously, sweeping over her coworkers. “I didn’t realize you made more than-“ and she interrupts him with a quick, “Ben why don’t we continue this in my office just a minute guys we will be right back.” She ignores April’s contemplative stare.

“So… I may have tried to kill you, with salt. Sorry. I swear I had only good intentions.” Leslie feels ridiculous, but when she tries to make eye contact with Ben _(to let him know that she seriously was not trying to kill him, and also because she wants to study his shirt and tie combo of the day)_ she sees him looking at the photos of the two of them on her computer. “I was in the middle of that when I realized— I haven’t even looked at all of them yet. 

Ben takes this as permission and walks over to her desk and uses her mouse to scroll down to the series of five photos of the two of them. Leslie joins him. Ben clears him throat, and says, “You do have a way of surprising people.” She isn’t sure if he means the cookies, the salt, or the time she grabbed him for pictures, so she gives him a vague smile and waits. “I mean, look at this picture. Who knew that you wanted my camera so badly? I look mildly horrified. Not because we are— just because you surprised me. And here, the third one. I have just about accepted that you are going to get a picture of the two of us looking at the camera.” He gives her a smile, and she melts a little _(his shirt is a hunter green, and his tie is a purple plaid, and it is adorable, for the record)._ “Then there is this curveball- these last two photos. Here you are, staring at me. That one was unexpected, when I looked back through these.” He looks thoughtfully at her, and she feels so exposed that she has to resist the urge to check the buttons on her blazer. “And then here in this fifth one, you just can’t keep your hands off me.” And that is a question, and he locks eyes with her.

“Ben, why are you always in here? Shouldn’t you be balancing some spreadsheet or watching some movie about robots?” Tom bursts in the room, and Leslie and Ben break eye contact and jump apart. “Leslie, those cookies are terrible. I don’t know why April insisted I eat one.”

“Ben, let me finish my notes, hold on.” She grabs a file folder at random, and writes on the top. _Ben, we cannot possibly have this conversation here. Let’s go to dinner._ She walks over to the doorway, where she can see April telling Andy that she needs him to eat the cookies because it’s on her to-do list, and she hands Ben the folder. He reads the invitation, and gives her another questioning look. She smiles at him and closes the door.

***

Leslie can’t decide what makes her happier:  Ann, or the waffles that Ann brings to her for lunch that day. She realizes the waffles come at a price, but there is no point in pretending she is going to resist them so that she can keep her secrets.

The moment Leslie lifts a forkful of whipped cream and waffle to her lips, Ann starts grilling her.  “What is the deal with you and Ben?"

“Keep your voice down! The sacred halls of government don’t care about my love life.”

“Avoiding the question.” Ann sing-songs.

“Giving the answer: I don’t know. I thought he might be into me, and then we went to CornDays, and then I was sure he was, and then I was positive he wasn’t, and now I am not sure. But I have a plan! And a list!”

“But he wants to date you?”

“He will. I have a list.”

Ann clicks her mouth and pushes the list to the side. “And you know he is leaving soon.”

Leslie shrugs.

“You… you understand why I am concerned here.” Ann reaches out across the table to hold Leslie’s hand. 

“Ann, I know, I know, but I think we could work out. He likes Thomas Jefferson. And his hands are beautiful. We feel the same way about turtles.” Leslie takes a moment to grin, because seriously, those are some beautiful hands.

“Leslie, you have a crush, and I am happy for you. You really haven’t been out with anyone since Justin, right?” Ann retracts that when she sees Leslie’s protestation bubbling. “Let me rephrase that. I know you went on some dates over the summer. I know at least one of them was spent discussing the auditor who bought you a concert, though maybe you took some of the others more seriously than that. But you have to realize you are setting yourself up to be disappointed, here.”

“Not unlike you and Chris?” 

“Chris and I are dating, number one, and number two, we are both moving to Indianapolis . I hope. If he asks me. He will ask me. I think.”

Pulling back her hand, Leslie stares, slack-jawed. “Since when are you moving to Indianapolis ?” _What_ is _it about Indianapolis that makes everyone want to be there?_

“We haven’t _discussed it_ discussed it, but I hope it is coming. We are perfect for each other. And he really likes me— at least, he seems to really like me.”

“Why would you ever want to leave Pawnee? Pawnee has everything you could ever need, including your house and your job and your best friend.”

Ann’s face softens. “Leslie, we would still be best friends. But not everyone has such an attachment to Pawnee. Have you ever considered that you run the risk that, even if you and Ben start to date, he may not want to settle down here? How connected is he to this place?”

Leslie bites her lip, and sucks on it for a moment. Then she gets a gleam in her eye again. “That can be dealt with." 

Ann sighs. “You cannot make someone love your town. I am not saying you shouldn’t pursue Ben. I don’t want to see you getting hurt if he picks his career over you.”

“I think Ben could make me happy.”

“Then I hope you can woo the hell out of him."

Leslie stands up and hugs Ann. Ann just cannot leave. It would be tragic. Ann hugs her back. Leslie can feel her starting to pull away, so she grips her tighter.

***

Leslie and Ben do not go to dinner.

More precisely, Leslie and Ben do not go _on a date_ to dinner.

The re-emergence of Ron’s ex wife throws the Parks department into chaos, and things like sanity and dates with state auditors fall by the wayside.

Once everything has calmed down, Leslie and Ben go out for dinner, but it’s practically a business dinner. Leslie is nervous, and babbles on about the Harvest Fest. Ben, who is probably not nervous, even if he doesn’t get when she is joking, _totally joking,_ about the calzones, does not try to shift the conversation at all.

Which is not to say Leslie doesn’t have fun. Leslie is so very thrilled about this project, and Ben’s enthusiasm makes her heart sing. 

She even decides she is going to bring him along for the media campaign she and Tom are about to launch. Ben is well-spoken and attractive, and he will be perfect for television.

It is a huge vote of confidence, but Leslie is sure that Ben will love Pawnee, and Pawnee just needs to get to know Ben.

***

Pawnee meets, and rejects, Ben Wyatt. This has something to do with the fact that Ben appears to be in a state of arrested development when anyone brings up being the boy mayor. Though she tends to think of him as able to talk to other human beings, Ben proves that actually he cannot. At least, not when a microphone is involved.

When Ann points out later that Leslie allowed her feelings to get in the way of the common sense response to Ben’s flubbing the radio show _(which was, naturally, to not let him anywhere near Perd Hapley)_ she laughs it off. Leslie has never been one to let her feelings get in the way of common sense ( _Tom’s scrapbook full of evidence aside)_ and she is not losing her head over Ben. No matter what she told Shauna Malwae-Tweep.

Leslie feels terrible for Ben, so she goes for number twenty-one on her list and sends him flowers.

This, she learns quickly, is a terrible idea.

The flowers arrive from the local florist, and are delivered to Ben in the office he shares with Chris. Ben isn’t there, because _(as she will find out later)_ he is off trying to pressure Sweetums into giving them more cotton candy machines. Chris signs for them, and after judging them _lit-er-rally_ the loveliest smelling flowers ever _(he feels the presentation lacks punch, which he mentions to Ann later)_ he sets them on Ben’s desk and goes back to boxing up his office.

Andy comes up to talk to Chris and thank him for his help in getting April back _(he is so ecstatic that everyone, even Kyle, is pleased for the two of them, though almost everyone is certain they will not last)._ Chris is in the middle of his vitamin regiment, and indicates to Andy he will be with him in just one moment. Andy takes the opportunity to touch things on Ben’s desk, from his nameplate to his giant printing calculator to lovely smelling flowers. He picks up the card in them, of course, and bites his fist in excitement over the gossip he now possesses.

The information snakes its way through the building. Andy tells April, who tells no one but starts smirking extra-hard at Leslie. He tells Donna _(she knew the whole time)_ who tells Tom _(he never even slightly guessed_ ) and Tom tells the hot intern from Sewage. She tells everyone she sees, and soon even the fourth floor— _the fourth floor!—_ is abuzz with information on how the Parks lady has it bad for the state auditor.

No one tells Jerry.

Leslie realizes her mistake when Ben sits in on the Parks department’s meeting. The department smirks when she refers to “some minor setbacks” regarding the media. They grin when she refers to the generous budget set for the rides. There are definite chortles when she mentions Chris leaving but Ben continuing to stay on in Pawnee. But she puts it all together when April mouths “are you kidding?” to her when she thanks Ben for his continued assistance.

_Oh no._

Ben, who picked up on the tension long before Leslie, has his head buried in his hands for most of the meeting, though he has not been to his office and does not know there are flowers waiting for him. He just has the look of a man who realizes that all his secrets are out, though Leslie can’t read that until she realizes her own secret is out.

She wraps up the meeting quickly and reminds everyone that Chris is having a little going-away party that night. Then she books it out of there to go text Ann.

Leslie shows up at the Snakehole that night alone. She starts looking for Ann, but the club is so crowded she can’t find her. She is looking for anyone she recognizes when she stumbles across Ben. 

“Leslie. Thanks. For the flowers. It was a surprise.” Ben looks entirely uncomfortable, and she can’t blame him, not really.

“I shouldn’t have sent them.” She smiles at him. “At least, I shouldn’t have sent them to your office. I don’t know where you are living, though. It seemed like the thing to do. I hope no one teased you too much.”

“Tom had a few things to say. Actually, Tom had many things to say. Does Tom actually do any work here?” Ben always seems more comfortable when he can be sardonic, and today is no exception.

“Tom really is mostly passionate about promoting this place, and Brooks Brothers. Have you seen him yet?”

“I can’t see anyone. There are way too many people here.”

“Chris sure made a lot of friends in Pawnee. Are you going to have a similarly stuffed party when you go?”

Ben makes a face. “Chris can’t help himself. It’s like being friends with Ben Franklin.”

“You’re no John Adams. You make friends, too. Everyone in the department likes you.” Leslie makes a mental note that everyone in the department is going to start hanging out with Ben, _damnit_.

Ben opens his mouth to reply when a passing partier shoves into him and he stumbles into her.

“If you wanted to dance you should have just said so.”

Ben looks mortified. “I don’t. I mean, not because of—I don’t dance, Leslie. It’s just not a thing I do.”

 “Nonsense, Ben, everyone dances.” Leslie starts grooving a bit—she might not be good enough to dance with April, but the boys at the Bulge liked her well enough. She shimmies in place, and then starts dancing around Ben, randomly anchoring herself to him after twirling or shaking. Ben looks slightly terrified, at first, but when he sees that she isn’t going to make him dance— merely dance herself, he loosens up. He holds her drink, so she doesn’t mind. Even after he finishes his drink, and drains hers, he still stays in place, watching her. He seems to have an endless capacity for tolerating other people’s fun, so she is shocked when he lends her his hand to spin her in place.

And so she does, once, twice, three times, catching his eye every time she passes him by. It is wonderfully freeing, and for a moment she isn’t in a crowded club but alone with a man locking eyes as a prelude to something much better.

She feels bold, and so on the third spin she lets herself fall, a bit, just ever so slightly, into his chest. She grips his arm with her left hand and lets her other hand fall from his and _ever so slightly_ brushes against his face.

She smiles and melts away into the crowd.

Think on _that_ , Ben.    

***

She doesn’t end up back at the Snakehole until the night Ann is dumped.

Well, not _is_ dumped. The night Ann is _made aware_ she has already been dumped.

Ben is there, and approaches her and Ann. Leslie takes a moment from saying lovely things about Ann and terrible things about Chris to feel smug that Ben is there because she encouraged Tom to invite him out.  

Ben joins them and says most of the right things to Ann, and buys the rest of her alcohol, because he is a good guy. 

***

Ann is clearly grieving her lost relationship, which necessitates late night phone calls and tons of take-out and processing and analyzing what went wrong and rereading text messages and preventing a late-night QVC purchase _(no one needs a turkey fryer)_ but being too late to stop hair color. Leslie held hands with Ann when she broke up with Andy, and hugged her when she dumped Mark, but this might be the first time someone has left Ann, and Ann just does not understand rejection.

Leslie juggles Ann and the festival as well as the Parks department without breaking a sweat _(mostly)_ but this leaves less time for stalking Ben.

Yet it seems like lately he is everywhere, wandering in to her department more than is strictly necessary. He brings her lunch twice a week, and doesn’t seem concerned when she sits with him and ignores him for paperwork. He dutifully runs errands when she asks, and rallies the troops when she is not around to watch them, and even if he doesn’t understand why miniature horses are amazing, he seems incredibly invested in the festival.

Leslie is too busy to wonder about her own sort-of-maybe-soon relationship, but her coworkers do not feel nearly so pressed for time. So when Ron offers to take them all out for pizza a few nights before the festival, Leslie is the reluctant holdout, feeling guilty for going somewhere other than the fairgrounds, Ann’s house, or the office. The argument that she needs to relax fails _(Thanks Jerry)_ as does the idea that she should eat something _(Sweetums bars are food, Tom)_. She agrees only when Donna tells her it’s a bonding experience for the department, and since they did all put their jobs on the line, in her hands, really, she puts down her clipboard and goes for pizza. 

The seven of them are scattered around the table. April and Andy are nuzzled together chewing from the same slice of pizza, making up for lost time by being kind of gross. Donna is telling some story to Jerry, and Ron and Tom are arguing the merits of pizza toppings. Lost in thought, Leslie chews and contemplates, for the first time in weeks, what she wants from Ben. He is leaving soon, and she never will. She thinks back to that email she got from the ethics professor from the community college that she emailed, who gave her his blessing to date Ben if—and only if— he was completely done with the budget _(she had, of course, not framed it as a personal problem, but it was no secret that Pawnee had been the home of two state auditors all summer)._ A smile plays over her lips at the thought, and Tom, who is being ignored by Ron, seizes the opportunity to entertain himself.

“Leslie’s smiling! I bet she’s thinking about Ben.”

“You two have it bad for each other,” Donna declares. “I can hardly stand to watch it except that Mary Beth over in city planning has a pool going for when you will hook up, and I have some money down on it.”

“Yeah, Leslie, when are you going to make out with Ben already?” April gives her a squint through heavily-applied eyeliner.

“Three days after the festival would really be ideal.” Donna interjects. “Just sayin’.”

“As a member of the government of Pawnee, I would never date anyone who is in charge of our city” _(and besides, she had been turned down,, more or less, which helped the ethical quandary). When are you suggesting that he turned her down?_ “And who even knows if Ben thinks about me?” Leslie slouches a bit, but perks up with her next thought, “Unless he told anyone anything differently?”

No one speaks for a moment, so she slouches again.

“He hasn’t said anything, but you can totally tell.” Andy has the earnest look of an excited matchmaker.

“You can tell he is boring. You two would be perfect for each other. Maybe you shouldn’t date him, though. The universe would implode from all the questionable clothing choices,” Tom adds.

 “He does know Pawnee isn’t paying him extra to come by six times a day?” Ron takes a moment to stop glowering his way through this conversation. “And I am sure the State Government would not want to know how many man-hours he has spent moving bales of hay and arranging Tilda’s transportation.”

“Ignore Tom. And Ron.” April rolls her eyes in his direction, and then turns back to Andy, biting her lip and smiling at him.

Andy nuzzles April and says, “This is going to happen.”

“I am not making promises, guys, especially for you, Donna.” Donna glares at her like she wants Leslie to know she has a manicure riding on this. Leslie turns back to her pizza, and they move on to other topics.

At the end of the night, as they are drifting towards the parking lot, Jerry touches Leslie’s shoulder, and leans over to whisper in her ear, “Just so you know, I am rooting for you two kids to work it out. I thought it way back at the Freddy Spaghetti concert.

“Jerry, the concert? I hated him back then.”

“You didn’t. You just didn’t realize it yet.”

***

Leslie does not breathe again until three days after the start of the Harvest Festival. There isn’t time, and so many things go wrong so quickly, that she has to stay entirely focused. She loses sleep, she frets, she even doubts herself. She has to stop that quickly, though, because giving in to the Joan Callamezzos of the world means the end of Pawnee. 

Ben, for the first time since she decided he was worthy of her attention, lets her down. It hurts, really hurts, when he lets his Ice Town past interfere with his Pawnee present. She spends most of the night focusing on the festival, because any time she stops moving for a moment, she thinks about how Ben has left, and she can’t think about that. It is the first time she really considers that, that getting into a relationship with him will mean he will be able to hurt her in a way she hasn’t been hurt in a while. She could be Ann, despondent, depressed, and prone to crying.

Leslie _hates_ crying.

He returns to her, and she hugs him extra-long because he has restored her faith in humanity.

Two days after that, she can breathe again.

There are still four and a half days left of the festival, but everything is running smoothly enough that she can take some time for herself. All major fires have been put out, and everything minor has been delegated to competent people. Leslie takes a moment to look over her festival, and it is _good._

None of it would have happened if she hadn’t been willing to take a chance. 

Her eyes linger on the BINGO tent, and she decides it is time to talk to Ben.

She buys a funnel cake and goes off to find him.

She passes by Ron, who is reading some thick book while eating a turkey leg. She sees Jerry sketching the Ferris Wheel, and Tom flirting with the cotton candy lady. She sees Shauna Malwae-Tweep eating corn-on-the-cob _(Shauna receives a not-insignificant number of potential headlines)_ and Mayor Gunderson nursing a beer, and Ann talking to Dr. Harris. She walks over to Ann.

“Ann, Ann, I am going to do this. I am going to talk to Ben.”

Ann gives her a sad smile, touches her red streak and smiles a bit broader. “Leslie, I want you to be happy. And this guy might make you happy. You have to try. No matter what, Leslie, I love you.” And they hug _(Leslie is sure to brush the powdered sugar from Ann’s hair afterwards)._  

She continues to walk the Festival, taking in all the happy Pawneeans. She waves at Kelly and his daughter, and stops to talk shop with a disgruntled citizen _(she promises that the rec center classes will be reinstalled as soon as possible)._ She sees Perd Hapley at the Dunk tank, and she grabs a ball, throws it in the air, and then _bull’s-eye! (High school sports are never a waste, and Leslie was the star of the softball league.)_

And then, when she almost back to where she started in the first place, she sees Ben.

He is snapping pictures of April and Andy, who are standing next to the craft tent. April looks bored, but Andy is playing it up to the camera, thrilled beyond measure.

“Ben! Can I talk to you?”

Andy and April see her, and Andy stops goofing off and starts trying to be inconspicuous. April grabs his hand and drags him off with a smirk to Ben and a smile at Leslie. 

“This is amazing, Leslie.” He has a strange look on his face.

“You can take plenty of the credit! You did so much for this festival. We wouldn’t even be here without you.”

“I still think it was all you, but, you would be surprised, several people have come up to thank me as well. One of them called me a Human Disaster, but that could be a good thing, right?” he says, chuckling.

“It’s better than Ice Clown.” Leslie elbows him, and he grins and shakes his head.

“So….?” Ben looks at her inquisitively. He reaches over, and grabs a piece of funnel cake from her plate. He rips off a chunk and pops it in his mouth, getting a little powdered sugar on the side of his mouth… and suddenly, she realizes what that strange look on his face is. For the first time ever—or at least the first time Leslie has noticed— Ben looks relaxed around her.  That has to be a good sign, right? _Right?_ The plan must have been successful.

 _Deep breath, Leslie, Deep breath_. “I never thought I would be saying it, but I am so glad you came to Pawnee. When you first got here, I thought you were awful—“

“I was just doing my—“

“Job. I know. I should have cut you more slack.”

“You never would have.”

“Well, you were wrong—that is neither here nor there. The point is, you helped me save this town, and I am grateful for that.” She folds her arms, a little embarrassed.

“Pawnee is so... unique.”

“Yeah, it’s the best.”

“Leslie, _you_ are the best.” And he matches her grin, and touches her arm.

She unfolds her arms and shifts out of his reach. “And you are overseeing my department’s budget.”

“Actually, I have just a few things to wrap up, and then I am… probably getting sent somewhere else, once Chris and I are assigned a new town. But, I’m not in charge of the Parks department, or Pawnee, anymore.”

“Where are you off to next?”

“I am just going to be about forty minutes away—over in Snerling.”

“In that case, I want you to know I think _you_ are the best.”

“Oh, do you now? I’m officially not ‘Mean Ben’?”

“No, no. You are Ben, lover of plaid shirts and Star Wars… and Pawnee.”

They link hands.

“Can you get a few pictures of us?” She asks Derek, who is wandering by with his boyfriend. He grabs the proffered camera.

Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt stand up against the side of the BINGO tent 

They stare at the camera, squinting in the sun. _Snap._

He looks at her. _Snap._

She looks at him, and bites her lip shyly. _Snap._

He leans over to brush a stray bit of sugar from her cheek. _Snap._

She meets him halfway, and they kiss. _Snap._


End file.
